


Plain Simple Mycroft

by jadztone



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b-Consolation, Fandom conventions, First Kiss, Garashir - Freeform, Greg is pretty much me in this, M/M, alex kingston appreciation, and he finds a kindred spirit, deep space nine appreciation, disguises, elim garak cosplay, just a complete geek who loves so many fandoms, references to numerous fandoms, takes place post S4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: From a 221B-consolation prompt about Greg going to a con and meeting Mycroft there, but doesn't recognize him because he's in costume.  They flirt and bond over their mutual geeky interests.





	Plain Simple Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts), [merelypassingtime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/gifts).



> It's a two part prompt by daisyfairy1 and meredelicious: [LINK](https://meredelicious.tumblr.com/post/172714988141/daisyfairy1-i-know-people-are-writing-fics-for)
> 
> I loved this prompt because I love cons and I am a geek and I felt like I could do it justice. I dumped so many fandoms into this story, it's kind of hilarious. And of course there's meta, since so many of the Sherlock cast have been in other fandoms.

At the main entrance to the con, Greg flashed his VIP con pass, which hung from a lanyard adorned with Elvish script.  He didn’t usually upgrade to VIP, especially since there was the risk he might not get a chance to use all the perks.  But today’s guest was Alex Kingston and…well… _damn_.  He mentally crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t get a call from the Met. 

If he did get a call, it damn well better be a new case.  He’d worked bloody hard to make sure that Sherlock wrapped up their current one last night.  As it was, he’d missed out on the first night of the con.  He usually had a few drinks with the lads to kick off the weekend.  Unfortunately, His Nibs wasn’t cooperating in his briefing.  Greg tried appealing to John, but the doctor just shrugged and rolled his eyes.  Greg didn’t escape Scotland Yard till one o’clock.

No matter.  Greg had some coffee in him and he was high on excitement.  He loved cons.  Especially this one.  It was fan-run, and had a more intimate feel.  There weren’t as many celebrity guests, but he tended to feel more relaxed and less like he was being herded. 

Greg headed over to one of his favorite areas - the vendor tables.  It was also the place where there was the most interaction with cosplayers, who enjoyed showing off their costumes and didn’t mind posing for pictures.  Greg loved the cosplayers.  He very much wanted to do it himself, but knew that it would invite disaster if he did.  The last thing he needed was to be called to a crime scene while dressed as Han bloody Solo.  He chose instead to play it safe in a t-shirt and jeans.  The t-shirt was plain brown and said, “I aim to misbehave.”  If he got called to a scene, his co-workers would have no idea what the reference was, unless they too were Firefly fans.

Greg wended his way through the vendor tables, one eye on the merchandise, one eye on the cosplayers.  There were a lot of Avengers represented, with everyone excited for Infinity Wars coming out.  An Iron Man, a few Doctor Stranges, and a Gamora with a baby Groot on her shoulder (this was Greg’s personal favorite so far).  Also a lot of Doctor Who, since Alex Kingston was the guest.  A number of delightful looking River Songs, sometimes paired with a Doctor.  He saw a handful of people dressed as the new 13th Doctor.  Greg gave a second look at a Captain Jack Harkness that looked remarkably like John Barrowman.  He had to force himself not to backtrack and chat him up.  He wasn’t here to pull. 

Greg stopped to peruse a table featuring various themed chess boards.  There was one with characters from the chess-like game played by Chewie and R2-D2 on the Falcon.  Another set was modeled after the one featured in the first Harry Potter movie.  There was a 3-D set like the one played by Kirk and Spock on the Enterprise.  Greg felt a presence beside him as he was admiring the 3-D set.  He glanced over, then did a double take.  It was a Cardassian. 

Greg stared in amazement at the costume.  The level of detail was astounding.  How had he managed to get all the ridges and scales just right?  And his uniform…wait.  It wasn’t the typical Cardassian uniform.  It was a civilian outfit, specific to a certain character.  “ _Garak_?”

The man turned towards him, his expression one of delight.  His eyes were gleaming, just like Garak.  “Indeed, my good man.  I am Elim Garak, simple clothing merchant of Deep Space Nine.” 

Greg had to press his lips together to keep from giggling.  He felt catapulted over two decades in the past to when he first started watching Deep Space Nine and was drawn to Garak immediately.  He was the most interesting character on the show, which was saying something as there were a number of interesting characters.   “I have to say that your costume is completely brilliant.  The level of detail is astounding.”

The man bowed his head.  “Thank you.  I’m afraid I must confess that I had help with it.  I know someone who does costume and makeup work for Doctor Who and she owed me a favor.” 

Greg’s eyebrows shot up.  “Really?  Do you work for Doctor Who?  There’s something about you that’s familiar.”

He gave Greg that secretive Garak smile.  “Familiar?  You mean other than the fact that I have adopted the mannerisms and tone of voice of Garak?”

Greg chuckled.  “That makes sense.  I’m Greg, by the way.”

“Lovely to meet you, Gregory.  You may call me Garak.  Plain, simple Garak.”  He had a definite twinkle in his eye, and Greg felt like he was in trouble. 

Greg cleared his throat and indicated the table where they were standing.  “So do you play chess?”

“I do indeed, Gregory.  Strategy games are my favorite.  Though I’m not above a game of Operation from time to time.”

Greg laughed.  “That would be an interesting game to play with Doctor Bashir.” 

The man smiled.  “It would.  I imagine he would be very put out if he failed to extract any of the objects.”

Greg laughed again.  “I always loved the interactions between Garak and Bashir.  Too bad there wasn’t more of it on the show.”

“I am in agreement.  I enjoyed the way they challenged each other, intellectually and philosophically.  They were so different and yet they fit together so well.  I often wish I had someone…um…well, a _friend_ like Bashir.” 

Greg was tempted to ask his views on the relationship between Garak and Bashir.  Did he see the romantic subtext at all?  If he was straight, it was unlikely.  Greg decided not to risk it.  He was enjoying talking to this charming stranger.  “It would be cool to know someone like Garak, but I can’t imagine anyone like him in real life.  People aren’t really that mysterious.  A friend of mine would say they’re all transparent and dull, and I can’t disagree.”  He smiled at the man next to him.  “Are you anything like Garak?”

The man once again gave him a patented Garak smile and Greg couldn’t help but grin.  “I’m afraid I will have to be lumped in with the dull people.  I occupy a minor position in the British government.  I make it a point to cultivate an air of…invisibility.”

Greg huffed a laugh.  “Sometimes I wish I could be invisible.  My mug gets put in the newspaper far more than I would like.  Especially since…”  Greg stopped himself before he mentioned John’s blog.  _Shit_.  Why did he run his mouth like that?  Now the guy was going to ask why he was in the newspaper.  Not that Greg had anything to hide, it was just that once people found out he was the DI who worked with Sherlock Holmes, that was all they wanted to talk about. 

The man gave him a gentle smile.  “Don’t worry, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I have no desire to quiz you about the famous Sherlock Holmes.  I am quite happy to continue discussing the mutual interests that brought us here today.”

Greg’s eyes widened.  “How did you know who I was?”

The man smiled mysteriously.  “I recognized you right away.  As you said, your ‘mug’ is often in the newspaper.  I am an avid consumer of any news related to our fair city.”

Greg rubbed the back of his neck.  “Cheers.  I guess that means you’ve also figured out why I’m not in costume.”

The man bowed his head.  “I can imagine that it would be inadvisable for a number of reasons.  Whimsy doesn’t have any place at a crime scene.”

Greg nodded.  “Exactly.”  He paused a moment, contemplating his next move.  Usually he doesn’t interact much with cosplayers, unless he already knows them.  He’ll compliment them, sometimes ask for a selfie.  This was the longest he’d talked with a complete stranger at a con, and realized he didn’t want to end it and walk away.  He knew that this wasn’t Garak, but still…someone who would choose to dress up as him must be somewhat interesting themselves. But what should he do to prolong their encounter?  They can’t keep standing at this table, the vendor was giving them the stink eye. 

The man glanced over at the vendor and then back at Greg.  “I see you are a fan of Firefly.  Did you happen to see the vendor table devoted exclusively to the show?”

Greg’s eyes widened.  “Not yet!  Wow, the whole table for one fandom?  Oh, it’s because Jewel Staite is appearing tomorrow.”

“Indeed.  I can take you over there, if you like.”

Greg grinned.  “Sure!  Let’s go.”  Clearly the man also wanted to prolong their discussion, or else he would have just pointed out where it was. “So do you always dress as Garak at these cons, or do you mix it up?”

“Mix it up.  But I only very rarely go to cons.  My work keeps me very busy and I travel a great deal.  I simply don’t have time to devote to a costume if there is the chance some crisis will require me to be elsewhere.  The last time I wore a costume was after the Hobbit movies – I was Gandalf the Grey.  Before that, I was Lazarus from that episode of Doctor Who, right after it aired.  It was a last minute decision to go to the con so I couldn’t do anything elaborate.  I already had a tuxedo, I just needed to make myself appear extremely old.”

“You went as old Lazarus, not the young version?”

“Yes, I enjoy wearing costumes that transform me completely.”  Greg found himself wondering if by transform he really meant disguise.  He said he worked for the government, maybe he was a politician.  It would explain why he seemed familiar.  Greg decided not to try and figure out who he was, out of respect for his privacy. 

 They arrived at the Firefly table, and Greg perused the items for sale.  He wasn’t planning to go see the Firefly actress tomorrow.  He absolutely hated queuing and was only going to put up with it today because he _really_ liked Alex Kingston.  He ended up buying a Christmas ornament in the shape of the Serenity ship.  Ever since his divorce, he’s been getting more and more fandom-themed ornaments for his tree. His ex-wife thought this stuff was childish and had forbidden it in “her” house. 

 Greg checked his watch.  If he wanted to see Alex Kingston’s panel, he would need to go get a seat soon.  Even the VIP spots filled up quickly.  He glanced over and saw that the man also had a VIP pass.  “Um…were you planning to go to the panel interview?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  I don’t intend to queue for Ms. Kingston’s autograph this afternoon, but I believe the panel should be engaging.”

Greg smiled happily.  “Well, how about we go over now so we can get good seats?”

The man smiled back.  “Prudent idea.” 

They headed over to the conference room where the interview was to be held.  “So tell me, Gregory, which of Ms. Kingston’s roles do you like the most?”

Greg chuckled.  “Well, I’ve seen her in a few things.  I used to watch ER back in the day, and I’ve seen her in Arrow.  But really, River Song.  She’s just…well, she does it for me, that’s for sure.  I dunno, what do you think?”

The man tilted his head.  “River Song is certainly a very interesting character.  Her interactions with the Doctor are quite amusing.  Objectively speaking, I suppose she is very attractive.”

Greg raised his eyebrows.  “Objectively speaking?”

The man gave him a rueful smile.  “Women are not really…my area.”

“Oh.  _Oh_.”  Greg realized what he was implying.  “Well, women are definitely my area.  And uh…so are men, to be honest.”  He gave the man a meaningful look.  He didn’t reply, but his eyes gleamed as he gave Greg another Garak smile.  Hoo boy.  Greg continued, attempting a light tone, “Do you know how much I would give to see River Song and Captain Jack in a scene together?”

The man barked out a laugh.  “I’m not sure the world is ready for that.”

At the door to the panel room, they were waved on through.  They found two seats near the front and sat down.  There was still a bit of time before the panel started.  Greg turned to face his companion, giving him a sultry smile.  “So…tell me, are your eyes really that blue, or did you go the extra mile and wear colored contacts for your character?”

The man looked down, his lips pursed together as if fighting a smile.  Greg imagined that if he weren’t wearing a layer of grey makeup on his cheeks, that they might be tinted a lovely shade of pink.  What was he thinking?  The man only just admitted to him that he’s gay, and Greg was already flirting with him.  Hadn’t he told himself earlier that he wasn’t going to try and pull at this thing?  He’d had enough willpower to bypass a Captain Jack lookalike, but this guy dressed as a bloody lizard was making his resolve crumble.

Was it because he was doing such a good job of playing Garak?  No, that wasn’t entirely it.  He truly was enjoying this man’s company.  It was rare that he got to spend time with someone who unabashedly enjoys fandoms as much as he did.  And this man seemed to be interested in the same ones as Greg.  Plus…well, there was still that familiarity that Greg still couldn’t shake.  He knew this guy from somewhere.  Not personally, of course, because he would have said.  Wouldn’t he?  Anyway, it made him feel more relaxed around the man.  He didn’t seem like a stranger.  Of course that could still be part of the whole fandom thing, which tended to make strangers feel like friends. 

The man finally looked back up and gave into his smile.  This time it wasn’t Garak-like.  It was almost...shy.  “This is my true eye color.  I did not realize I had that in common with Garak.”

“Ah.  Yes, Garak’s eyes are also blue.  I noticed because I’m a sucker for blue eyes.”  He grinned, and the man looked down again.

“I confess I’m more partial to the warmer colors.  Doctor Bashir’s eyes were hazel.  My favorite, though, is brown.”  He looked back up, locking eyes with Greg.  “It makes me think of chocolate cake.”  He smiled self-deprecatingly.

Greg chuckled. “A fan of chocolate cake, are you?”

“There are only a handful of things that I am quite unable to resist, and chocolate cake is second on that list.”

Greg crossed his legs, leaning slightly towards the other man. “What’s number one?”

The man raised one eyebrow and seemed reluctant to answer.  Much to Greg’s chagrin, he was saved by the emcee walking up to the stage to announce the beginning of the panel. 

Greg forced himself to pay attention to the stage and its guest of honor.  Alex Kingston was wearing a pair of cat ears, which was very cute.  He did get mesmerized by her voice as she talked about her current projects.  She admitted with a wink that she would love to film some scenes with the new Doctor, but didn’t think it was going to happen. She shared some funny set anecdotes, and then answered audience questions.  Everyone was charmed by the adorable little girl dressed as a TARDIS who asked her if she liked jammie dodgers.  Greg choked up a bit, wishing that he’d taken his kids to cons when they were little.  If only he’d told his wife to piss off when she ridiculed the idea.

 After the panel was over, the other man asked Greg if he would like to have lunch.  The con was being held at a hotel that had a cafe, a pub, and a restaurant.  “Yeah, sure.  Any preference?  I’ve always gone to the pub, but I’m flexible.”

“Do you mind if we do the restaurant?  My treat, of course.  I very much want to try their black forest gateau.”  He smiled sheepishly as Greg laughed in delight.

Greg wasn’t usually one for upscale dining, but the other man put him at ease by recommending what he thought Greg would like.  And he’d turned out to be right.  His entrée was delicious.  The other man insisted on sharing his dessert with him, making some ridiculous comment about watching his weight.

They walked back over to the main con area, heading over to the art room at the other man’s request.  They both admired a large oil painting that depicted outer space with colorful nebula clouds, and a tiny S. S. Heart of Gold.  Greg’s companion admitted to him that he wished he could have something like that above his fireplace, but refrained because he entertained frequently as part of his job.  “I do admit that I have something similar to this in my bedroom.”

Greg turned to him.  “That’s a good place to put it.  I mean, anyone you invite into your bedroom can be trusted not to judge your tastes, right?”

Out came the self-deprecating smile again.  “Actually, I was implying that, unlike the other areas of my house, I don’t entertain there.”  He shrugged.  “My job.  It…is not compatible with forming romantic attachments.”

Greg nodded in understanding.  “I can relate.  My career is also hard on relationships.  I tried to juggle my job and my family and it didn’t work out.  I’m divorced,” he said sheepishly.

The other man frowned.  “You sincerely believe that you are to blame for your failed marriage?  She…”  He stopped abruptly and gave Greg an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped.”

Greg frowned.  It almost seemed like the other man was going to say something about his ex-wife.  Which didn’t make sense as he couldn’t possibly know what she was like.  He was about to ask the other man what he’d been about to say, but he was distracted by one of the con volunteers walking through the art exhibit with a sign that said that queuing for autographs was starting soon.  Bollocks.  He wanted to spend more time with his new friend.  And perhaps work up to asking him out.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t going to queue for autographs, but I don’t suppose you’d change your mind?  I know it’s a pain in the arse, but it’ll go faster if we’re keeping each other company.”

The other man seemed to think about it as he nibbled on his lower lip, which was now delightfully pink after eating his lunch had rubbed some of the grey makeup off.  “Gregory, what if I were to tell you that there are other ways to meet Alex Kingston?”

Greg raised his eyebrows.  “Go on…”

“Well, I actually know her quite well.   You see, we met years ago when she came to my brother for help.  He solved her case with my assistance.  She took us out to dinner as thanks and we’ve been friends ever since.”

Greg’s brain swirled with this astounding bit of information.  This guy _knew_ Alex Kingston?  He had loads of questions and didn’t know what to ask first.  “Your brother solved a case?  What kind of case?  Is he a detective?”

“Yes.  Consulting detective.  He’s become quite famous for his work.  He’s constantly approached by celebrities and other powerful people.  I believe he only accepted Ms. Kingston’s case because his flat mate was a Doctor Who fan.”  The man looked at Greg meaningfully, as if he were waiting for the penny to drop.  Which it did.

“Bloody hell.  You’re talking about Sherlock, aren’t you?  _Mycroft_?”  Greg stared at him in amazement as everything slotted into place.  Why he had seemed so familiar.  Why he preferred costumes that completely obscured his face.  Why he knew about Greg… _and_ his wife.  How had Greg not figured it out before?  Now that he knew, it was quite obvious it was Mycroft.  He could only guess that he’d been utterly blinded by the costume and the accent and…well, the fact that he never in a million years would have reckoned Mycroft to be at a place like this, much less cosplaying as a bloody Cardassian.

“I do apologize for deceiving you, Gregory.  I honestly thought you would recognize me right away.  I decided to come as Garak because…well, I saw your Deep Space Nine DVDs next to your television.  It was clear you watched them frequently and I was thrilled to see we had that in common.  I thought it would be fun to meet up here and bond over our love for the show.”

Greg gave him a warm smile, but remained puzzled.  “Why didn’t tell me it was you?”

Mycroft sighed and waved his hand towards a cluster of chairs nearby.  “Shall we sit down?”  Greg nodded and they went over to where there was a little more privacy.  “When you didn’t recognize me, I thought that this would be a chance to see if you could really like me for myself.”

Greg frowned.  “What do you mean?  Of course I like you, Mycroft!”  It was the truth.  For a long time he’d been in awe of the man.  That bit about occupying a _minor_ position was a load of tosh.  But after the incident with Eurus, he thought he’d been getting to know him a bit better.  And wanted to know him a great deal more, if he were being honest.

Mycroft looked down.  “I wasn’t sure, Gregory.  I know you’ve been spending more time with me this past year only because Sherlock asked you to.  He imagines that I’m lonely and fragile.  I don’t appreciate his interference.”  His tone turned bitter.  “The last thing I wanted was for you to befriend me out of… _concern_.”

Greg gaped at him.  “Is that why you think I spend time with you?”

Mycroft lifted his chin.  “Do you deny that you started asking me to lunch at Sherlock’s behest.”

Greg huffed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Mycroft.  That wasn’t the reason.  That was the _excuse_.  I’ve always been interested in knowing you more.  I was just…intimidated.  I used Sherlock’s request as justification to do what I’d been wanting to do anyways.”

Mycroft gazed at him, slightly disbelieving.  “Really?”

Greg smiled gently.  “Yeah really.”

Mycroft took a deep breath.   “Well, now you know the real me.  The _real_ real me that no one else knows.  Except of course Sherlock.”

“The you that only the walls of your bedroom have seen?” 

Greg was pretty sure he saw some red peeking through the grey on Mycroft’s cheeks.  “Exactly.”

“Well, I very much like that version of you.  I’d like to see it more often.”

Mycroft gave him a small smile.  “You’re not just saying that because I’m offering to introduce you to Alex Kingston?”

Greg barked out a laugh. “I’m not denying that knowing the real you will have its perks.”  He licked his lips as he steeled himself for what he was about to ask.  If they weren’t on the same wavelength, it might torpedo this new level of their friendship.  “Look, Mycroft.  It’s obvious we’ve been misjudging each other for a long time.  From now on I think all cards should be on the table.”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows.  “Okay?  Spell it out for me, Gregory.”

“When I said just now that I wanted to get to know you better…I didn’t just mean that I wanted a deeper friendship.  I actually want _more_ than that.  I suspected you might be gay, but I wasn’t sure since, like Sherlock, you lead such a solitary existence.”

Mycroft gazed at him.  “I want more than friendship, too, Gregory,” he said softly, and Greg felt a spike of joy.  “But as I said before, with my job…”

“I know all about your job, Mycroft.  Well, obviously not, but I can guess.  There’s my job too, as we’ve discussed.  If we decide to do this, of course it won’t be easy.  I’d like to try.”

Mycroft nodded.  “I would, too.”  He gave Greg a stern look.  “What I was going to say earlier…you are _not_ to blame for your marriage.  That hateful wife of yours and her _cheating_.  She didn’t deserve you, Gregory.  You are to be treasured.”  His gaze turned earnest.

Greg was so overcome that he stood up and grabbed Mycroft’s hand, yanking him to his feet.  “Come with me,” he commanded in a gravelly voice.  He knew a spot nearby, a little alcove with an ice machine.  He’d used it once, shortly after his divorce, to snog a woman dressed as Fish Mooney from Gotham.  That had been pretty hot, but he was looking forward to this so much more. 

He pushed Mycroft into the alcove and crowded him against the wall. Regretting that he couldn’t touch any part of Mycroft currently covered with ridges and scales, Greg grasped his waist and lifted up onto his toes so he could touch the one part of Mycroft’s face that was already mussed: his lips. 

Mycroft melted against him, exhaling a sigh of contentment, and brought his hands up to grasp both sides of Greg’s face.  He kissed back, fervently, and Greg felt happier than he’d been in years.  Not since the early days of his marriage when the future seemed bright.  Greg circled his arms around Mycroft’s waist to pull him even closer. 

Mycroft carded his fingers through Greg’s hair, murmuring, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch your beautiful silver hair, Gregory?”

“Probably not as long as I’ve wanted to strip off your three piece suits to see what’s underneath.”

Mycroft trembled.  “Freckles,” he gasped as Greg slid his hands underneath Mycroft’s tunic and skimmed the bare skin of his back.  “Lots and lots of freckles.”

Greg almost growled as he captured Mycroft’s lips again.  Christ, but he wanted to see those freckles.  This was getting out of hand.  For the first time ever, he wanted to blow off a con and go home. 

As if reading his mind, Mycroft broke the kiss and took a deep, gulping breath.  “Now, now, Gregory.  We can’t leave yet.  I don’t want to miss the filk concert, tonight.  The Weird Sisters will be performing ‘Harry Potter Kissed a Boy and He Liked It.’”

Greg snorted out a laugh.  The filk concerts _were_ a lot of fun, though that might be because they were held at the pub and a lot of drinking was involved.  “Yeah, and we can’t miss the costume contest.  You are _guaranteed_ to win.”

Mycroft shook his head.  “I never enter the contests.  They always want me to tell them my name.”

“Oh come on, you can give them a fake one.”

Mycroft smirked.  “John Smith?  Roonil Wazlib?”

Greg laughed.  “I am so turned on right now.  What is wrong with me?”

“I imagine Bashir thought the same thing when he first met Garak.”

Greg grinned at him.  “So you saw the subtext, too!”

“Of course I did, Gregory.  I may not be as sentimental as my brother, but I am still a romantic.”

Greg felt a thrill as he looked forward to seeing that side of Mycroft.  “Come on, I have a great idea.  There’s a replica of the TARDIS in the props room.  We can have our picture taken with it.”

Mycroft chuckled.  “That is a splendid idea.  Lead the way, Captain Reynolds,” and he took Greg’s hand. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to visit my Sherlock Holmes blog at sherlock-nanowrimo.tumblr.com. Since I made it obvious I'm also a Star Trek fan, you can see that blog at spockfascinated.tumblr.com. The one where I geek out over multiple fandoms is aliasblack73.tumblr.com.


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